


Tickled Until Death

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Furry (Fandom), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Execution, Humiliation, Masturbation, Other, Tickle torture, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: Malaria the Mightyena has been caught after a spring of crimes against the government--and her punishment is to be a humiliating death by tickling.A commission for someone on Furaffinity.
Kudos: 6





	Tickled Until Death

It was only when she produced a bottle of ale that Diana the Lopunny managed to earn the attention of Malaria, the Mightyena who had been pointedly ignoring the cleric from her dungeon cell from the moment of Diana’s arrival. Looking exceedingly uncomfortable in the rags that she had been given upon her capture and the manacles weighing down on her wrists and ankles seemed to hardly burden her as much as the one that one around her neck. Only when the ale was in hand, uncorked, and the first swallow taken did Malaria level Diana with a firm stare, exhaling a gruff sound.   
  
“Alright, alright, what do you want?”   
  
Diana leaned forward as far as she could against the dungeon bars, watching the Mightyena after the question with a pause as she ruminated over the question. Finally, the Lopunny cleric spoke aloud, “I’ve heard that you’re to be tried for the crimes of a bandit, though you served in the war. I wish to hear your story, what would drive you to such a life.”   
  
Malaria could hardly hold in a scoff, but she knew that her fate was imminent. The following day the Murkrow magistrate, Alistair, would determine her fate—and given her success as a local bandit who was quite literally a local folk hero for her theft from the government, she didn’t have high hopes for how things were going to go. The fact that a cleric was there taking her story was...somewhat more promising, and at the thought, she inhaled slowly and began to recant her tale.   
  
“I was a soldier in one of the last wars,” she started, taking a long swallow for her drink to prepare her for the duration of telling her own tale. “And I was one the front lines when I was caught in the debris crossfire of one of the catapults. Broke my leg in more places I could probably count, and when our side pulled back further along the border, I was left stranded to the enemy forces. I was taken as a prisoner of war, but… the other side wasn’t cruel to me. They treated my wounds as best as they could, and saved my leg.” To show this, she extended her leg stiffly, showing how it was bandaged from the history of her wound, needing support even now.   
  
“While they were treating me, we entered the peace treaty, and in accordance, I was returned here to my homeland—but my commanding officers acted like they never retreated, and so, the army labeled me a traitor, saying I deserted. I figured the best way to stay alive was go on the run, and steal from the people who didn’t need it. The government betrayed me, so that’s why I’ve taken from only them. That was a year ago, and two weeks ago, they caught me.” Malaria’s mouth drew into a grimace, and she took another wide swig of her drink as she looked up at Diana—surprised to see the pity that was actually working across the cleric’s expression.   
  
“I’ll see what I can do, to vouch for you. Maybe the magistrate will listen, if I explain your situation,” the Lopunny murmured, the trouble of her concern working across her expression. Their conversation continued in quiet voices, the two of them discussing how they might clear Malaria of her fate well into the morning.   
  
Before Malaria could answer another question, the guards of the dungeon approached, clearing their throat as they gestured to the dim lighting of the morning sun filtering in to the dungeon bars from a distant window. “It’s time for your sentencing,” one announced, and they moved forward to grasp the Mightyena by the shoulders, beginning to pull her along to where the magistrate would pass his judgment. Diana followed, and the two moved to the courts where Alistair looked over them both, quirking a brow at seeing the cleric standing so near the little ‘folk hero’ that he’d been told had been captured in the midst of robbing a government convoy blind.   
  
Seeing as she had no personal status, wealth, or clout to her family, Alistair regarded her with a somewhat dismissive look. There would be no trial—there never was, for her kind, and he reclined in his chair with a moderate sigh. “I am told that you have caused our great nation nothing but strife in the last few years of your life. An army deserter-”  
  
He was suddenly interrupted by Diana, who perked up with concern in her eyes. “Sir magistrate, if I may, after speaking with the accused I have determined that she was _forced_ to this life of crime after her commanding officers abandoned her.”  
  
Before she could continue and deliver any more of Malaria’s story, Alistair cleared his throat. “Silence, cleric. The conditions of her actions mean little. She has attacked government resources and tax collectors.”  
  
“She never killed anyone!”  
  
“Irrelevant!” He snapped, clearly becoming frustrated. “The punishment for such actions is death. If she wishes to inspire such discord among the people, then she will be given an appropriate punishment to put her in her place where she belongs.” He straightened his back, lifting his hand as he stared down at Malaria from his perch, a small shift to his beak showing his disdain for the woman before him. “As such, she will be put to death. My sentence is hereby announced, the criminal Malaria shall be tickled until death!” There was a small murmur about the room, when suddenly Diana stood quickly to regard the magistrate with a righteous fury in her eyes.   
  
“You, sir, are a coward! You fear to give the prisoner a just sentence, or any trial at all! You seek to save face just to display power, while a wise magistrate, a _just_ magistrate would seek to understand the victim’s sentiment!” She shouted across the courts, causing a stunned silence to cross the entire room as all eyes turned to Alistair, waiting to see his reaction. Just as many of them anticipated, the quiet fury that rose to his expression was something that struck fear into the heart of many of the ones watching on, and silence spoke louder than anything else in the slow moments following. His gaze upon the cleric changed slowly, gradually, then all at once as he stood from his chair.   
  
“You dare speak to a magistrate in such a way?! No matter what her motivation may have been, her guilt is _proven_ , she has been a wanted criminal from the moment she first laid hands on the first tax collector!” He shouted, his sharp talons digging into the wood of his bench in front of him. “If you wish to speak for the criminal in such a way, then you will share punishment for her crimes in her defense! Guards—take them both away! She can watch the criminal be executed in the morning!” He announced, shocking Diana as they moved to fasten her wrists in the same heavy cuffs. Even though clerics were seen largely as inoffensive parties, she knew that not even she could speak out against someone in the judicial system. Her anger had been incendiary, but it would cost her the chance to help the Mightyena now.   
  
“You didn’t have to,” Malaria mumbled to her as they were brought together in the same dungeon cell that night, though Diana was clearly a little upset about the outcome of the event.   
  
“I… know. I am still sorry that I was not able to stop him,” Diana answered quietly, and both lingered in that shared silence between them as the night went on. Though she knew that feasibly Alistair could not execute her as well, as much as he may have wanted to for questioning his authority, she would be made to watch the execution of someone she thought was innocent—and that felt like a worse punishment than much else, to the Lopunny.   
  
Morning rolled around far too quickly for both of them. The guard, as he had the day before, came to collect them with the first rays of the morning light, and they were brought to the public square where all executions took place. It had been set up for this particular execution with a certain attention to detail, and Diana was forced to watch as Malaria was taken up the gallows. Instead of the ropes expected to hang there, the frame had been fastened with manacles hanging from the wooden rafter above it. There were more shackles attached at the base, which had been firmly reinforced so it wouldn’t drop out while her punishment was taking place. The Mightyena was moved upwards, and after all of her clothing had been removed in clear view of the crowd that had gathered to watch, secured in the chains with both arms lifted in a straight line above her head. Her ankles were then cuffed, leaving her with her thighs parted and vulnerable.   
  
While they guards handled securing her, Diana was moved nearby to the stocks that had been rolled in just to give her a view of the situation. They secured her hands and feet, making her squirm and call out in frustration when Malaria was pulled up hard by the chains, causing her to groan with discomfort as her arms were strained by the weight of her body under her. It was only when the guards stepped back did Diana see that there had been a scaffold built around the gallows, with the volunteer-executioners pulled from the crowd all climbing that scaffold to get into position. If she tilted her head far enough, she could see the raised booth behind the crowd watching, where the magistrate looked down on them both with a smug glance of satisfaction that they were at his mercy—or lack of it.   
  
The crowd seemed to be waiting with baited anticipation, with all eyes on the two before them. The entire crowd seemed to turn to Alistair, waiting for his approval, and with a stern nod, the execution began. The group, tiered on the scaffold so they could all reach different heights of where she was standing, turned to Malaria and reached forward to start grasping at her. With her arms suspended above her, she was helpless to stop them as they all reached forward, and began to tickle her.  
  
They started with their claws at first, gingerly dragging the tips of their claws against her sides to start tickling her. Malaria’s body went tense immediately, her eyes going wide as she tried to bite back the response, but the more she tried to fight against it, the more difficult it became to do so. Before long, several sets of hands were on her, each wiggling and tickling at her as she started to try to thrash against their brushing strokes. Her legs were partially dangling, and the only thing keeping them from kicking and lashing out were the heavy shackles secured around each angle. It left her to wiggle helplessly in the air, their strokes moving from her sides up to explore the dip of her armpits, and a few more enthusiastic executioners circled to the front of the Mightyena, making sure not to obscure the magistrate’s view of her punishment as their fingers worked across her belly. The more improvising members of the group had also brought instruments with which to help the process of the execution, producing everything from claws, feathers, brushes, and at one point, Diana was relatively certain that she had seem someone produce a feather duster from the crowd, leaving her horrified as they started to amp up the torment.   
  
There were several of them dragging feathers along the more sensitive parts of her body. It only seemed to make her laugh harder, her body helplessly writhing as two of the volunteers teasingly dragged the feathers against her bare nipples, while another dragged their claws against her navel, making the woman’s sturdy stomach muscles flex while the laughter was dragged from her frame, causing her cries of laughter to force her to writhe in misery. “No, no- ahahhaha!” She gripped her hands into tight fists as she felt someone’s fingers tickle at her neck, though with the way she was hanging from her shackles, there was no way for her to flinch or pull away from the torment. Malaria was growing light headed with each minute that passed in her force laughing, and Diana could tell how it was immediately starting to take a toll on her.   
  
“Stop it-!” The cleric tried to call out to them, but with a wave of his hand, Alistair had her silenced as well by a group of back-up executioners, who moved to tickle just her feet. It wouldn’t be fatal, but it would silence her with her own laughter as well, leaving her squirming helplessly in the stocks as she was forced to watch the Mightyena take the worst of the attention.   
  
There was something about watching the tickle torture that had something stirring inside the ancient magistrate. From his platform, no one in the crowd would be able to see what he was doing, and thus, he had the liberty to explore the warm arousal that her torment was bringing him. Slowly, he reclined in his chair, watching as their instruments of torture danced across the bandits well built body. He was hard just from the sight, and taking his cock in feathered wing, he started to stroke himself slowly. Her screaming laughter only made him throb in excitement, and shamelessly, he pleasured himself to the sight of her suffering. When a feather trailed along the battle scars of her body, he groaned quietly to himself, feeling his hips roll forward to grind his cock into his own grip.   
  
The group continued, the feather duster that had appeared earlier being put to use as it tickled up and down the insides of her thighs, leaving her legs quaking with the stimulation while another person set lower on the scaffold, using the tips of her claws on Malaria’s padded soles. Diana’s attempts to draw attention away from the punished soldier had all but failed, her own laughter joining Malaria’s in the open courtyard, though Malaria’s was still notably louder from the intensity of her torment. It was becoming more obvious that she was having trouble breathing, and weariness was beginning to set in. From how hard she’d been forced to laugh to the entire sensation wracking her entire body, making her muscles tense and relax each time a claw or feather or stiff bristle brush passed over a ticklish spot, her energy reserves were starting to run low.   
  
From his vantage point, Alistair was growing noticeably more sweaty. There seemed to be a building pressure in his chest, and the more it grew, the harder he was finding it for _him_ to breathe as well. There was a sheen of moisture across his beak and brow, and the pressure that was starting to build in him seemed to spread from his groin all the way up to his chest, just under his breast bone. It was even more arousing when he started to watch the Mightyena’s form go slack every time she blacked out, though the crowd wasn’t allowing her even a moment of reprieve. Every time she would hang loose from the bindings, they would slap her awake again, splashing buckets of cold water against her until it shocked her awake, only to resume their torment of her once more. At a particularly loud shout of laughter, her back arching and making her chest arch forward, the magistrate let out a sharp groan, and came hard without warning, the intensity of his burst of cum splattering against the inside barrier of his booth, though with it came the shocking realization that something wasn’t right.   
  
His last thought was the way the tense feeling had spread up from his cock to just around his heart, and only then did he realized that the pressure in his chest might _not_ have just been arousal, but also something much more dangerous. Right as the thought happened to spring into his mind, his body locked up in the sudden failure of his heart, and he slumped forward in his chair. His face seemed frozen in shock, but from the lifeless expression written across it, there was no denying that he was dead. The execution seemed to commence for only a few moments until the guards at the foot of his booth seemed to realize that something was wrong, and a sharp whistle rang out to freeze the process of the execution.   
  
“...Sir Alistair is dead!” one announced in shock, after checking the corpse’s vitals. The crowd seemed to freeze along with the executioners on stage, leaving Malaria hanging from the chains as Diana panted hard, trying to catch enough breath to call out.  
  
“Call off the execution and release me, then!” she pleaded, looking to the guards at the gallows. “The punishment has been carried out! She has been tickled to death—just his own, not hers! The command is fulfilled!” There was an unsettled surprise that crossed the group, but the guards couldn’t deny her argument. Though she didn’t have an incredible amount political sway, with the magistrate dead, the cleric held more influence over the crowd than anyone else did. Not wanting to challenge her, the guards gave an awkward shrug between them, and slowly began to call down the executioners.   
  
Though there was disappointment evident in the crowd, the two were released, and the exhausted pair slumped together on the gallows while they tried to catch their breath. Gradually pulling up the Mightyena’s pulled off clothing to get her something with which she could cover herself, Diana wrapped an arm around her shoulders with the attempt at trying to give a comforting squeeze.   
  
“Don’t worry. We’ll clear your name…. For now, work on catching your breath, and afterwards, we’ll find somewhere safer for you than this place.”


End file.
